


Green Light "Go"

by windandthestars



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Series, Season/Series 02, rawr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had bought the tickets weeks ago, paid more than he should have to make sure the observation decks wouldn’t be crowded.  Beside him, Mac studies the elevator’s other occupants, waving mutely at the two small children watching her from behind their parents’ legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Light "Go"

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon borrowed from the askACN group on tumblr. Title from Taylor Swift's _Holy Ground_.

The sky is clear, filled with honey yellow rays, despite what he knows is frigid wintery temperatures. Beside him Mac dozes, smiling, quiet in the way she is when they’re like this, not quite willing to let the world intrude. He’d thought they might walk down to the corner bistro for breakfast, but he prefers things like this now, just the two of them together.

 

_She hasn’t invited him up so he stands inside the tiny foyer and waits. He fidgets with the gloves he’d pulled off to fiddle with her building’s intercom. He’s unsure of his intentions, asking her out for the day had been a impromptu decision, one made to right a wrong that wasn’t his to fix. Her acceptance had been startling._

 

Her finger traces the outline of his features, the dip below his eye, the edge of his jaw. He rolls onto his side and she smiles slow and sleepy.

“Stop worrying.” She says it quietly, not quite sure how much leeway her new role gives her, and he shakes his head kissing her softly.

“Reminiscing not worrying,” he corrects, “it’s hard to worry when you smile like that.”

 

_She points out the floors, the ones she had visited, as the elevator slips passed them. There’s no judgment there and he likes that. It’s a statement of fact ‘I’ve been here. Remember that.’ He bumps her shoulder, teasing. The touch even through their wool coats sends a shiver up his spine. Being this close to her is intoxicating, dangerous. Despite the grin she’s trying to hide, she seems immune._

 

Her eyes narrow at the corners, but she seems satisfied with his response. Another finger joins the first, and they walk across the bridge of his nose, forcing his forehead to wrinkle and his eyes to cross as he tries to follow their path up to his hairline.

 

_He had bought the tickets weeks ago, paid more than he should have to make sure the observation decks wouldn’t be crowded. Beside him, Mac studies the elevator’s other occupants, waving mutely at the two small children watching her from behind their parents’ legs._

 

She combs her fingers through his hair, watching him, curious. He frees a hand from a tangle of blankets and smoothes his thumb over the planes of her face, mirroring her earlier actions. She’s still lost in the careless haze of sleep; he’s trying never to forget.

 

_She spins around, grinning, laughter spilling forth in unexpected ways. He’s never seen her like this, so uninhibited, so temptingly beautiful. She’s always buttoned up at the office, proper and organized, out here in the sharp winter air there’s a sense of chaos swirling around her as she takes in the view._

_“It’s beautiful,” she breathes and he finds himself never wanting to forget this moment._

 

”Earth to Will.”

He huffs a sigh and she rolls her eyes before shifting closer to tuck the top of her head under his chin.

“You’re smiling again.” She’s teasing, but there’s an unspoken joy between the words, one that says she’s glad, if still a bit surprised by how easily he smiles now.

“Breakfast in bed?” He asks, pulling her closer as she nods.

 

_They go out to lunch after, faces red from the cold, inhibitions slowly sliding away. His hand brushes hers across the narrow booth and she reaches to take his and in hers, warming his frozen fingers._

_He’s expecting them to talk about work, put back some of the normal barriers, but while they talk about politics and current events, it’s all personal opinion, conjecture. They take their time over coffee, strolling down memory lane, comparing accomplishments and false starts._

 

Her lips brush the underside of his jaw, forming words he can’t make out before he tips his chin down and she nips at his lips, playful.

“Remember the first time we did this?”

The corners of her mouth twitch, down and then up again.

 

_He had expected their first real date to start with a nervous proposition, a bouquet of roses, and a hastily made reservation. Instead it comes after a lazy afternoon of window shopping along Fifth Avenue. He follows her back to her place so she can change but he goes as he is, windswept and a bit unkempt._

_They eat lazily, the conversion growing more animated as dinner is replaced by dessert. Mac sips her wine then laughs, temper sated as he sputters, sponging red from his shirt._

 

"You were being pompous," she laughs, still tucked against him, "so sure you could win me over with expensive food and good wine."

"I was smug," he disagrees, "and a little bit in love."

 

_She's leaning against him now, lending a conspiratorial air to their disjointed conversation._

_They slow as they near the start of the next block, the end of their night. "Want to come up?"_

_"I've been waiting for you to ask."_

_He wants to ask her when she decided this, when she decided to throw caution to the wind, but he knows that he’s pushing his luck, tempting fate to ask. He may want to know, need to know, but he knows better than to let his ego get in the way, not when he’s drunk with the feeling of being with her, not when he knows it has less to do with him and more to do with the view they had shared that morning: the two of them standing at the top of the world._

 

Her lips brush his, erasing the words. He smoothes a lock of hair back behind her ear and kisses her more soundly. It’s lazy and a little bit messy, but neither of them are in any rush this morning.

She wraps her arms around his neck and whimpers, eyelashes fluttering as she pulls back to look at him, the hem of her t-shirt caught between his fingers. 

 

_It’s not as frantic and as he had expected, but there’s a sense of purpose, an acknowledgement of wasted time in the efficiency with which they both undress, in the way his mouth refuses to leave her skin._

_She’s loud, keening and whimpering, thrashing when he slips down between the sheets to fit his mouth over her._

 

“I’m not begging,” she pouts as she squirms impatiently against him.

“Again?” He teases, chuckling at the murderous look that flickers across her face. They’ve been stealing touches for almost an hour, the nips and the kisses not escalating to anything more.

 

_She’s quieter now, doe eyed and panting, and he wonders if they’ll see the sun come up like this, sweaty and temporarily sated. He’s not used to this, the inability to keep his hands off her, the need to pull her close, a late night turned into an early morning. He hasn’t had this with anyone else and while that should terrify him, he finds it comforting. MacKenzie’s not like anyone else. This wasn’t like anything else._

 

She dozes off again as he smoothes sweat damp hair from her face, fingers detouring to trace the bridge of her nose, the contours created by her cheek bones. He smiles while he watches her sleep, the sun casting shadows across her face, warming the deep even silence that surrounds them.


End file.
